#dorian
Scratch off the surface
of anyone's mind
and you might be surprised
at the picture you find
the one that's behind the smile that you see every day
we all paint our faces but leave little traces
in shades of Dorian Gray
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 4:27 AM UTC
Excerpts from the Journal of Dorian Gray
by Michael R. Burch
It was not so much dream, as error;
I lay and felt the creeping terror
of what I had become take hold . . .
The moon watched, silent, palest gold;
the picture by the mantle watched;
the clock upon the mantle talked,
in halting voice, of minute things . . .
Twelve strokes like lashes and their stings
scored anthems to my loneliness,
but I have dreamed of what is best,
and I have promised to be good . . .
Dismembered limbs in vats of wood,
foul acids, and a strangled cry!
I did not care, I watched him die . . .
Each lovely rose has thorns we miss;
they ***** our lips, should we once kiss
their mangled limbs, or think to clasp
their violent beauty. Dream, aghast,
the flower of my loveliness,
this ageless face (for who could guess?),
and I will kiss you when I rise . . .
The patterns of our lives comprise
strange portraits. Mine, I fear,
proved dear indeed . . . Adieu!
The knife’s for you.
Keywords/Tags: Oscar Wilde, portrait, Dorian Gay, journal, ageless, face, youthful, unchanging, rose, thorns, ***** vat, acid, acids, dismembered limbs, violent beauty, knife
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 3:55 AM UTC
i was given a succulent in the 2nd week of uni.
it was small, green, young like me.
it was already flourishing unlike me.
i overwatered it in the beginning, too flushed,
too eager to take care of someone else.
my first month living alone.
i knocked it over 1 night.
half of its leaves came off after a careless nudge.
it was exam season.
now i stare at it, thinking.
does it embody me? the rot inside me?
half the leaves missing, a fifth growing a sick green?
is that my portrait of dorian gray?
i dare not water it. i dare not touch it.
my own portrait shut away.
it is now 1 day from semester 2.
will i survive?
Jan 26, 2020
Jan 26, 2020 at 11:14 AM UTC
I would wonder if there be
A hidden portrait there of thee
Which bears thy sin and guilt and shame
While outwardly, thou art the same.
If this not be, then let me write
A poem to bring this all to light.
Let these immortal words then be
That true and twisted sight of thee.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
You are made of ivory and gold
Your lips could rewrite history
From but a brief touch
You have rewritten me
Yet you remain unchanged
Porcelain, china, marble or gold
You are timeless beauty
Never to know the ages ruin
Or the terror of slowly growing old
Your hands will not wither
Nor your eyes and dreams fade
You will remain as you did
On the day you were truly made
Nigh on twenty you were made
Not born, but made, to you
And since then, to the world you have not changed
Though inside I do not know if this is true
None can penetrate your façade
Your mask of beauty and charm
You will not relinquish your weapon of a silver tongue
As though you fear the whole world means you harm
You do not know how easy you pass
With wit and boyish charm
Against all obstacles you need only smile
And all your enemies are disarmed
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 1:26 PM UTC
I lived my life held down by chains
whips
and sour wails.
Then came prince one day
and saved me from myself.
He took me to a place
of glass
it must've been the stars
and it must've been the
sky.
But, it was only glass
it seems.
Not even fragile to my surprise.
I began to train.
to fight for freedom
for none one but me.
I let my demons
push on my chest.
reminding me of who I used to be.
friends, lovers, and enemies
passed right through my hands
as I figured out my fate to follow
there in Adarlan.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
Have you ever asked the question
How do pictures work?
They're just images of fleeting times
But worth a thousand words
I've got a box of thousands
In this box they're safe at last
They're memories all stored away
Of my childhood and my past
What happened to those people ?
Who were captured for a second
I guess some died and some grew up
At least, that's what I reckon
Sad images and happy ones
Just echos never heard
But memories come flooding back
Each one....a thousand words
That holiday, the fishing trip
A birthday that was fun
Each just a sliver of your life
A time that is now done
Look back and you are younger
All those people still alive
That picture of you at the lake
Where you first learned how to dive
They all sit here inside the box
Not one can be discarded
For each one is a piece of me
Of how my whole life started
There's some I can't remember
Really, more than you should know
And some, well..there's that hairdo
That's just one I'll never show
You look at them and wonder
What possessed me on that day
To take a picture of that place
And now, I could'nt say
Most names are lost to memory
But the faces I recall
I might know who some are in them
But I do not know them all
I wish that as I see them
I could spend more time with them
It would be just something special
To share a moment once again
For now, the box is hidden
In a cupboard, in the back
A box of little snippents
That have made up my lifes track
You look at some and wish
You could always stay that way
But life is not a fairy tale
It isn't Dorian Gray
Best put the pictures back now
Bring them out in years to come
For their story of a thousand words
Must start with only one
Don't throw away one photo
For each one fills in a hole
They're a picture of your being
And they all make up your soul
It's amazing how a picture
Wakes your mind, gives it a ****
Have you ever really wondered
Juist how do pictures work?
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
Beauty trapped in a diamond casket
So cold to touch yet so filled with heat
Your heart's trapped in diamond palace
I want to run
Yet I'm stuck like meat
Run, run, from the golden boy
Run, you can only be a toy
A mind of manhood
Yet, he's smooth as stone,
His heart cased in sorrow
he'll cut down to your bone
Just to see if you're as broken inside
Just to see if he can delight his eyes
You should run, run
But how can you run from
The man of wild imaginings
The man who fuels pretending
Spending of youth
Steal away truth
Feel you're free
Feel you're free
You've never been so alone
Run, run
Unreal and unnatural
Run, run
He's a ***** of the veil
Run, run
Haven't you ever wondered
How his flesh is on fire
Yet he stays the same
Run, run, from the golden boy
Run, you can only be a toy
Run, run, to him life is a ploy
A trap which he has set fire to
So run, or watch yourself burn
in ecstasy,
knowing that you want him to watch.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
if my hands reflect
the hurt they cause, maybe i
wouldn't hurt again.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC